


Reassurances

by hamilsinning



Series: Family [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bed-Wetting, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, James isn't really in this, Past Child Abuse, aaron is like 12, aaron panics a little, but I wouldn't call it a panic attack??, idk tbh, james is papa, this is totally non-sexual, thomas is dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7371973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamilsinning/pseuds/hamilsinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron wets the bed. Luckily, Thomas is there to show him everything is okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reassurances

For the first time in approximately six months, Aaron wakes in the middle of the night. It was a common occurrence when he first arrived at the Jefferson-Madison house, what with his nighmares and the infamiliarity of the house, its inhabitants and Aaron’s new lifestyle. But after he settled in he slept through the night without any issues.

Until tonight. The twelve-year-old blinks open his eyes and stares around at the dark room. He is about to roll over and try to get back to sleep when he feels wetness chafing the inside of his thighs. He freezes.

With bated breath, he pulls the bedcovers away from himself, already knowing that the bedsheet and his red joggers are soaked with pee. And Aaron whimpers. He has not done this in so long; not even when he first stayed here did he wet the bed. Soundlessly he reaches over to the bedside table and switches on his phone.

Four fifty AM. It’s fucking five o’clock. He cannot help the tears that well up in his eyes, and he switches on the lamp. The wet patches that have undoubtedly stained his clothing and sheet stare tauntingly up at him. He cannot get rid of this; not without telling one of his dads.

Aaron sits up in bed, hugging his knees pitifully. Although he knows that Dad and Papa would never hurt him, he’s painfully reminded of the time he spent in his last foster home. He doesn’t wanna think about it, but it isn’t as if he has any choice ... all he can think is having his face pushed into urine and being forced to wear wet pants all day.

He wonders if his dads will be angry, and he knows that the answer will be yes. He isn’t as frightened as he would’ve been five or six months ago, but Aaron is sure that the punishment for wetting the bed will be severe.

Slowly he unravels his arms from around his knees, and quietly makes his way towards the chest of drawers. He is constantly crying as quietly as he can, trying to at least clean himself up before he accidentally wakes up one — or both — of his dads. 

He shuffles towards the bathroom to change his pants. Although he could probably do this in his bedroom, he feels dirty and disappointing and would like to clean up before he puts on another pair of joggers.

Aaron closes his hand around the bathroom door, trying to slow his sniffles, and pushes. Everything is too much. The goddamn door is locked and he’s in so much trouble for wetting the bed and he’s so so afraid he’s gonna be sent back and he sobs, just as the door unlocks.

Thomas is admittedly frustrated to hear Aaron — because who else could it be, when he left James sleeping next to him? — trying at the bathroom door, but concern clouds his vision when he opens it to be faced with a sobbing boy, terror on his face.

“Aaron, Aaron,” he says quickly, taking the twelve-year-old’s shoulders; not shaking them but holding them still, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m s–sorry Daddy!” he wails, and he is torn between diving straight for Thomas’s arms or backing away, since that’s the one place he will not be wanted when his dad realises what he’s done.

“What happened, Aaron?” asks Thomas quickly. It’s like being stabbed by several blunt knives at the same time. Aaron only ever calls him Daddy if something is seriously wrong. And if, by Aaron’s account, something is seriously wrong, then it needs taking care of immediately.

“I p–peed my bed, I’m so sorry Daddy! Please d–don’t send me a–away!” Aaron is shaking like a leaf and Thomas wants nothing more than to bury him in his chest and comfort him. However, he knows this will not soothe his son’s fear at the moment.

“Aaron, listen to me,” he says calmly, “it’s okay. It’s okay that you peed the bed. I can take care of it. I’m not angry with you, do you understand me?”

Aaron, although he is still crying, nods. “You’re not gonna send me a–away?” he asks shakily.

“I promise I am not. Wetting the bed isn’t a bad thing. It happens to everyone. Did you have a nightmare?”

Asron shakes his head. “I just woke up and—and I was wet,” he explains, scrubbing at his teary eyes.

“If this happens again, I want you to find me or Papa and tell us, okay?” Thomas gently rubs the boy’s shoulder. “Now, you go and change your pants and I’ll take care of your bedsheet.”

Aaron quietly moves past his dad and into the bathroom. Wordlessly he pulls down his red joggers and puts on the grey pair. He yawns. Now that the immediate fear of being beaten or sent away for peeing the bed has vanished, he suddenly realises how tired he is.

He returns to his bedroom to see Thomas putting a new sheet on the mattress. He pats it invitingly. “In you get,” he encourages, and Aaron almost laughs, because he doesn’t need any encouragement to get into bed anymore.

His dad tucks him in, and he doesn’t protest because he’s never had a parent to do it for him before. He is literally forcing his eyes to stay open as Thomas says goodnight.

Aaron drifts off to sleep, safe under the knowledge that he has not been punished and that Thomas and James will love him regardless.

It is a constantly comforting thought.


End file.
